


While you sleep

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Barduil - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, That's it, i guess, watching the other sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:57:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard watches Thranduil sleep, like the elf has watched him so many times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While you sleep

It was usually the other way round. 

Bard slept and Thranduil watched. He needed less sleep than his mortal lover, so the Elvenking just watched, attentively, tirelessly, how the other man slept. He enjoyed it. He knew how fleeting his moments with Bard were. He knew how much it would hurt when he was gone. So he drank up every little moment, every little movement, everything. He catalogued every bit, every detail of Bard's form, as if in some sort of mental map, so he could always bring up the image of his beloved in his mind. 

Yes, Thranduil did this often and Bard was aware of it. More than once he'd woken up to find blue eyes staring at him as if he were the most extraordinary creation in the world. He didn't understand why Thranduil stayed in the bed if he was awake, but he didn't mind too much. After many years of being the protector of the family and looking after everyone, it was nice to know someone was looking after you too. And not just anyone. Him. 

The Elvenking - his Elvenking.  
That night it Bard who was watching Thranduil sleep. Thranduil had been called to battle and had come back worn out, exhausted. Bard had said goodnight to the kids even though he wasn't tired, to retire himself with the king to their room. And so Bard got to be the one awake while his lover slept and decided to do what he did, and just stare. Look at him, and really see him. 

Thranduil's expression was peaceful as he slept. It hadn't always been the case. It was Bard's appearance and his presence next to him that had brought peace to his nights. The silver hair fell in cascades, like some sort of river - shining almost like a halo. Sometimes Bard looked at him and thought he was seeing an angel - some heavenly creature that had no place on earth. Bard saw one of the hands peeking from under the sheets. It amazed him how Thranduil could be so old, have seen and endured so much and still have that perfect body, so strangely ageless. It was uncanny.

But Bard's absolute favourite part was the face. That face, so often devoid of emotion, so often cold. That face that could be most expressive thing in the world, that face that could light up in seconds and make the room warmer, that face that even after all this time, remained mysterious to Bard. Bard could see the place where he knew the elf's scars were, carefully hidden under glamours. 

(Bard wondered how much it had hurt, how much it still hurt. But Thranduil wouldn't talk about it. He didn't talk about many things, things that Bard knew pained him still. He had build so many walls around him. And Bard couldn't blame him - but he was going to tear down those walls, let him be comforted again. He would get there)

Bard slowly took out his hand, softly caressing Thranduil's cheek. He found him, as ever, much less cold than anticipated. Thranduil made a soft sound in his sleep, almost like a purr. He was so beautiful lying there, breathing rythmically, as if he didn't have a care in the world. It was an intoxicating image. 

And Bard understood why Thranduil watched him slept, because if he could, he would have lost himself in that moment forever.


End file.
